


Of Mice and Men

by Smith



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Humour, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:58:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smith/pseuds/Smith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jonathan discovers Malcolm's other secret fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Mice and Men

**Author's Note:**

> For [the prompt](http://erdboden.livejournal.com/13066.html) _mouse_ at [st_20_fics](http://st-20-fics.livejournal.com/).

The last situation Jon expected to confront, first thing in the morning as he yawned and scratched the back of his head, before he'd so much as caught a whiff of ground coffee beans, was to find Malcolm crouching naked on the kitchen table with his phase pistol in his hand.

Slowing to a halt in the doorway, Jon frowned and blinked. "Malcolm?" His voice deepened into his Captain tone, quite inadvertently as he hadn't used it in years.

"Stay back," Malcolm warned.

"Have you gone mad?" he asked, quite matter-of-factly.

Malcolm shot the man a disparaging look, suggesting both that they'd perhaps established such years ago, and that he resented the idea immensely.

"I will take that as a no. Then what on earth are you doing?"

"Hunting. Where is that useless cat when you need him?" Malcolm snapped.

The large tabby chose that moment to wander leisurely between Jon's legs and deposit himself on the floor, glancing expectantly between his owners in search of breakfast.

"Please maybe elaborate for those of us who don't go at your speed?" Jon asked.

"There is a rat," Malcolm explained patiently. "In the kitchen. In _my_ kitchen."

"A rat? Are you certain?" Jon glanced around. "I don't see anything."

Except at that moment, the tiny field mouse darted out from its hiding spot behind the island counter and scurried toward Malcolm's perch.

Malcolm flinched, his knuckles turning white around the edge of the table. "Look! Did you see it?"

"Yes, I saw it. It's a field mouse."

"It's a rat," he insisted. "Soval, kill it!"

The cat took one look at the mouse shaking beside the leg of a chair and yawned, flopping down on the warm tiles and beginning to lick his paws.

"Fucking useless moggy," Malcolm muttered, peering uncertainly over the rim of his perch to glimpse the rodent. "I've got you now." He lowered the pistol to take a shot.

"Malcolm." Jon marched over, sending the mouse scurrying away towards the wall.

"Fuck! I had it!" Malcolm nervously lowered one of his feet to a chair so he could turn to see where the animal had gone. "You ruined my shot."

"I'm not going to let you ruthlessly murder a poor mouse. It probably wandered in here last night. Let me just take it outside."

"So it can come back in again?" Malcolm grabbed Jon's arm to prevent him from executing his plan. "I don't think so."

"Trust me, after the ordeal you've put it through," he started, gesturing to scorch marks on the floor, "it won't be coming back."

Malcolm scowled. "Fine. Deal with it."

Jonathan shook his head incredulously and followed after the mouse, chasing it to a corner where it curled up into a furry, shaking ball. He crouched down and carefully cupped his hands around it, scooping it up.

"Can you open the back door?"

Malcolm stared at him for a few moments before cautiously climbing down from the table and opening the door, then hurriedly retreating to the corner furthest away.

Jon carried the mouse outside, feeling it quiver in his palms as he padded barefoot across the grass, glad he'd chosen to shrug on his bathrobe before leaving the bedroom. He gently lowered the rodent to the ground at the very edge of their yard, where the lawn disintegrated into a wild meadow, and opened his hands. After a moment's hesitation, the field mouse sniffed the tips of his fingers, hopped out and skittered away into the longer growth.

When he arrived back in the kitchen, Malcolm had a skillet on the stove. "Blueberry or plain?" He asked of Jon's pancake preferences as he retrieved eggs from the fridge.

Jonathan shook his head and began to chuckle deeply as he leaned back against the door. "Malcolm, are you afraid of mice?"

"No," Malcolm replied promptly. "I merely object to their presence in my home."

 "Of course. My strong, proud husband is prone to hiding on a table with a phase pistol whenever he objects to a presence. I remember the exact same response every time we dealt with Tellarites."

"I was not _hiding_ , I had assumed the most logical strategic position in which to analyse the situation unhurriedly."

"Right. Yes. Of course." Jon shook his head. "How silly of me." He smiled and moved to wrap his arms around his husband. "I don't care if you're afraid. I'll admit it's one of the last things I expected, but I honestly couldn't care less. I'll just grab any mice that infringe on our territory in the future."

Malcolm shrugged and continued with his work in mixing pancake batter.

"Let me tell you, if it was a cockroach crawling around on the floor, I'd be straight up on that table, too," Jon admitted after a moment.

Pushing him away, Malcolm's dark eyes met Jon's, convinced the man was humouring him, but as he scanned his husband's gaze, he saw no indication that he wasn't serious. "Really?" he asked after a moment's suspicious hesitation.

Jon nodded. "When I was a kid, I found a huge one inside a bag of chips. Been terrified ever since."

Malcolm let out a breath, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as the wary light in his eyes faded away. "Well, I'll get rid of cockroaches if you deal with mice."

"Deal." Jon grinned and kissed him. "Blueberry, please."


End file.
